


Red Moped

by CelestialCeci



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Miraculous, Bank Robbery, Car Chases, Gen, Girls with Guns, Handcuffed Together, Heist, Robbery, marinette being a BAMF, moped chases???, secret identities still intact, terrible miraculous aus, uhhh, wait this is a funny one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-06 04:51:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16381757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialCeci/pseuds/CelestialCeci
Summary: terrible-miraculous-ladybug-aus on tumblr:an AU where... Marinette and Adrien met when they both robbed a place. They keep running into each other while robbing places and become close.





	1. Byblos Bank

**Author's Note:**

> hehehe, hey kids. I follow this golden blog on tumblr and I saw this post and,,, just could not resist. The original au had them robbing a coffee shop but I took some liberties and had them robbing a bank instead. I really meant to make it a light-hearted crack fic but I failed epically and now it's serious and I JUST LOVE HEISTS OK. Baby Driver was my movie of 2017. Oceans 8 is my movie of 2018. and before that it was Oceans 11, 12, and 13, Now You See Me and numerous James Bonds. I love Six of Crows. I been on my heist/spy grind since I was like ten. ANYWAY I'm planning a couple more chapters after this one (this is meant, keyword MEANT, to be a small project). let's see where this goes, ladies.
> 
> uh idk. some songs i listened to to get into the story were 'say 'a' by a boogie wit da hoodie and 'where the cash at' by brockhampton. luv u merlyn wood.

_One-hundred and twenty four seconds._

Marinette’s mental clock ticked away in her head. She clicked her nails on the red helmet that was sitting on the handlebars of her moped, letting no second pass uncounted. A man in an expensive black trench coat and black toque entered the large class revolving door, a mother and child existed right behind him, the child’s cheeks working up a flush as she vigorously licked her lollipop from a nice teller.

_One-hundred and fourteen seconds._

She felt her moped key inside her sleeve against her wrist, and practiced sliding it into her palm for speed. Just as smooth as the last fifty times she’d done it. A brisk wind blew her dark hair around her face, but she didn’t stop to move it away. She slid the key again, making it move in time with the clicking of her nails and her counting.

_Ninety-six seconds._

Marinette abandoned her moped with a final pat on the seat, and joined a small group of people waiting to cross the street. Her red sunglasses covered her sweeping eyes as she took in the traffic coming to a slow to her left.

_Thirty-eight seconds._

High heels clicked just behind her on the pavement, and changed pitch as they moved from road asphalt to sidewalk concrete. Only Marinette made the left turn towards the tall marble-face building. She didn’t stop to gaze up at the French flag flying above the dirtied marble frieze along the top of the doors.

_Twelve seconds._

Marinette pushed one hand against the cold glass of the revolving door, it’s last moving moments before it locked behind her, and the other into the inner pocket of her overcoat.

_Seven seconds._

The inside of the bank was a busy scene of lines and clicking keyboards. She counted the people in each line, who was walking where, and quickly identified the woman working behind the main counter in the navy pantsuit. Marinette could hear every sound, every roll of every pen, every shuffled of paper and every squeak of every shoe. So much activity filled her senses, an orchestra to the ticking clock in her head.

_One second._

And then there was silence. In one smooth motion, she removed one handgun from inside her coat and aimed at the security camera to her right. Her free hand reached across her body and pulled out a second gun, this time aiming for the camera on her left. No more clock, no more paper, no more shoes. In the wake of the gunshots, Marinette’s head was finally clear from the noise, the only sound the ringing in her ears and the blood rushing in her veins.

“On the floor! Everyone! This is a robbery!” She let loose one more shot at the camera right above the center teller’s desk, the lens and mechanics exploding in a brilliant spray of glass. There was one more central camera that she knew about from her meticulous planning, and that was right above the entrance. She went to turn around, but froze when she felt the cool press of metal at the place under the back of her jaw.

“This is cute and all,” a voice whispered in her ear, “but I think I was here first, princess.”

Marinette’s left arm was still extended from shooting the last camera, and she didn’t dare put it down as the mysterious person walked around to stand in front of her, gun still at her jaw. As he walked around, the rest of his weapon came into view, and she couldn’t help the small intake of air as the rest of a giant assault rifle became visible. She shouldn’t have been surprised at the fact that this man had one- he was a criminal after all, and this was a robbery- but they were still difficult to get in France because of gun laws, and how had he managed to get into the bank with one unnoticed by her or anyone else?

Marinette tore her eyes from the gun, doing the best she could to block out the uncomfortable press of the rifle muzzle at her neck. It was the man she’d seen walk in only a minute earlier, the one in the long dark coat and hat. Except now she saw the hat was really a ski mask, pulled down over his whole head, with spaces for his lips and green eyes to show through.

The two sized each other up for a moment. Marinette swallowed. Someone on the floor had started crying and was sniffing rather loudly. She weighted her options: Her extended arm went past his body, and in the time it would take to move it to get a clear shot at him he could pull the trigger to his gun conveniently pointed right up at her brain. Her other hand was down by her side, but she wasn’t sure if a blind shot at his leg would do much good. She needed more time to think, but already her mental clock was ticking again, and the pain at the top of her jugular was getting too much to bear. The list of possible plans always got significantly shorter when you were at the business end of a gun held by an unknown opponent.

“I don’t care who you think has dibs in this situation,” Marinette started. She shifted on her feet a bit to test and see what would happen, but the muzzle of the assault rifle just pushed harder. She had to keep it cool. “But I do know that we have approximately seven minutes and twenty-eight seconds before the police get here, so we’d better get moving.”

The man was silent for a second, considering her words. To drive her point home, Marinette lowered her raised arm back to her side. A second later the pressure at her neck vanished, and the man casually pulled the rifle against his chest, crossing his other arm over it. “Well, you seem like you have a plan.” He stepped to the side and gestured towards the row of teller kiosks. “Ladies first.” Marinette’s only response was to turn and shoot the final camera before huffing and making her way towards the counter.

_Seven minutes._

He walked behind her, but Marinette thought it left her plenty of leeway to get her thoughts going again. She shot the low glass plate that separated the tellers from the customers and lifted herself over the counter. The man in black followed. The woman in the navy pantsuit was laying on the floor face down, but when Marinette pulled her up by the collar she stayed limp.

“Aw, poor thing. You probably scared her with your dramatic entrance.”

Marinette cast a glare over her shoulder, and then stuck her arms under the woman’s armpits and dragged her across the floor over and into the back room of the bank. In her mind, Marinette could see the map of the bank, and the strange trio made their way to the safe in the center of the bank. She grabbed one of the unconscious woman’s hands and stuck her thumb onto the touchpad at the door of the safe, and stepped back to let the lock mechanism work.

“What were you going to do if she hadn’t been unconscious?” The man asked.

Marinette glared at him again. “I do have two guns.”

_Five minutes and fourty-two seconds._

“So? What if she refused?”

Jesus, this guy was awfully chatty. “How did you walk in here showing your face? The security tape still recorded everything up to the point they were destroyed.” She deflected.

“There’s a blind spot in the corner where the door is.” He said smoothly. “Didn’t you know that?”

Marinette wrinkled her nose. She did not. How had that escaped her knowledge in her meticulous planning? No time to dwell on it now. The safe was open, and she pulled on the heavy door. Cool air spilled out, and she stepped over the lip of the doorway and entered the safe.

_Five minutes._

Marinette was back in the zone. She put her handguns into their respective pockets, then pulled two rectangular cloth bags that were tucked in the back of her waist band and began stuffing stacks of euros in them. The man in black placed his assault rifle on the ground and pulled out his own massive duffles. Marinette cast an eye at them, then turned back to her own stacks.

“Those things are tiny. What’s even the point?” He didn’t hid the disdain in his voice as he carelessly tossed stacks into his bag.

“I know how much I need, and how much can fit if you’re stacking it right.” Marinette replied hotly.

“Also you keep whispering numbers, why?”

Fuck, this guy was a real asshole. A Grade A bitch. Then again, this was a bank robbery, so maybe she should lower her standards for conversation while on a job. “I’m counting how much time we have left.” She growled, wishing for a second her sunglasses were gone so this prick could see how angry she really was. “We have two minutes and thirty-three seconds left, _by the way,_ ” she ground out.

“You can count that accurately?” He looked surprised.

“Of course I can. A necessary skill.” Marinette carefully began to place her last row of bills into the now perfectly filled bag. “I’m going to double check the lobby.”

The man in the coat didn’t say anything as Marinette took her bags and left the safe. Carefully, she placed them on either side of the doorway that lead into the lobby of the bank. Softly, sirens could be heard in the distance. Right on schedule.

_One minute and fifty-two seconds._

Marinette carefully drew one of her guns from her coat and said a silent prayer before running back to the door of the safe. “They’re close. We need to go, now!”

Without looking at her, the man zipped up his two duffle bags and shouldered them. He stood, turning to walk back to the safe entrance where his gun lay, but Marinette was ready. One eye closed, and she squeezed the trigger on her own gun.

With a twisted scream of pain, the man fell back onto the floor. He gasped for air has he pawed at his shoulder, already bleeding from his gunshot wound. He pressed his face into the tile as he rolled onto his side. “What the fuck? You-you _bitch_!”

Marinette calmly walked over and shoved him flat on his back again, pressing the ball of her foot onto his shoulder like a gas pedal in a car. He screamed. Marinette tisked.

“Oh, pity. Looks like I missed.” She cocked her head to the side as she looked down at him, making an exaggerated pouty face. “Too bad you’re still alive, now the police will have to pick you up.”

_Forty seconds._

“Hm, I’d better scoot.” She picked up one of his duffel bags in each hand. “Did you really think I would split my profit so easily?” Marinette stepped back, removing her foot from his shoulder. He rolled back into a ball, pressing on his face with his good hand.

Marinette almost turned to go, but then had one last thought.

_Thirty seconds._

She picked up the massive assault rifle and slid the strap over her head, slinging the gun across her back. “I don’t think you’ll be needing this anymore.” She picked up the duffle bags again and went as quick as she could with the heavy bags out the door, grabbing her own cloth bags on the way. He left foot slid slightly across the ground with every step, the bottom of her shoe slick with blood. “Nice working with you!” She called over her shoulder.

_Fifteen seconds._

As she re-entered the lobby, her internal clock told her she was cutting it very close. She slid over the teller’s desk again, and momentarily shifted all four bags into one hand so she could shoot at the glass front of the bank, since the revolving door had locked behind her automatically as part of the bank’s emergency systems. The wall of glass came crashing down in a thousand tiny diamonds, and Marinette booked it across the street to her red moped.

_Nine seconds._

Her cloth bags slid perfectly into the leather satchels on either side of the seat, but the duffles were an unaccounted for item. She slung them cross-body over her head like she had with the rifle, slipped her trusty key out of her sleeve.

_One second._

Parisian police screeched to a halt in the road, sirens flashing and screaming, jumping out of their cars just in time to see a flash of red disappear around the corner, on the sidewalk.


	2. Audi Bank France

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette's second robbery also.... doesn't go exactly to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys!! here's the second installment of our lovely criminals. i hope you enjoy!
> 
> i also made a playlist for this fic because this chapter has Nino in it and he loves a good soundtrack. click here for thievery jams.

“This is… pretty ambitious for a one person job,” Nino said, tracing his fingers along the lines on Marinette’s map of the bank. 

“Well, it’s technically not going to be a one person job with you involved.” Marinette spun around in her swivel chair, legs tucked up under her. She sipped from the coffee she held in her sweater paws. The warehouse she used for planning was always cold, but she didn’t mind. Its security was worth it.

Nino pulled his hat off to run a hand over his close-shaved hair. “Alrighty. As long as you’re confident, I’ll be confident.”

Marinette grinned behind the lip of her mug. “Can you get into the system by tonight?”

“God, it’s like you don’t know me at all,” Nino said, seeming offended. He grabbed his laptop out of his backpack and sat on the old couch in the middle of the open room. Marinette rolled her chair to the couch with her feet and looked over Nino’s shoulder. Within a few moments, Nino was in the security frame of the Audi Bank French branch. 

“Look, here’s your cameras.” Nino clicked around and brought up a view of 60 cameras spanning the buildings’ four floors. “And here’s your alarms.” Nino pointed to the screen. He clicked around, and bit his lip in hesitation. “Hm. It looks like I’ll only be able to silence the alarms for 10 minutes. They have an automatic backup police-contact system in place, and as soon as anything is offline they’ll start their countdown.”

“I can work with that. It’s better than nothing,” Marinette said.

“No lollygagging this time, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Nino teased with a wink in her direction.

Marinette groaned. “Ugh, I still can’t believe that happened to me. What are the odds?” She pushed herself away from the couch, rolling herself back towards the desk.

“Probably, like, one in a billion.” Nino said absentmindedly, chewing on the edge of his hoodie as he became engrossed in the bank’s security network. “What did you say happened to him, anyway?”

Marinette slipped her feet back into her boots, and began rolling up her maps and tucking away her own computer into her bag. “I watched the news almost twenty-four/seven once I got home that day. He got picked up and went to jail, as planned.” Marinette tapped her head to emphasize. If she was being honest, she’d almost thought about her close encounter every day since her Blybos Bank job had gone awry eight months prior. Despite her numerous robberies, she’d never been as on-edge as she was that evening. 

Nino raised an eyebrow at her. “Sure. Maybe this time watch out for guys in black coats giving off douchey vibes.”

“Uh-huhhhhh,” Marinette drawled, doing the last button on her coat. She tossed Nino a small black box. “Make sure you charge the radio overnight at least. We’ll test them before Wednesday.”

“Where are you going ?” Nino asked, pocketing the box.

“I need to go pick up one more thing.”

Marinette sped through the dark streets of Paris, taking her time to wind through all the extra streets. As she maneuvered her moped through Paris midnight traffic, she thought back to the Blybos job. It was normal for her to be unable to sleep the night after a job. Too much to look out for, and the adrenaline was often still high, especially if she was over at Rouge Hall. However, she’s never had a hitch in a job that big. She’d been unable to sleep peacefully for almost a week, her eyes glued to her TV as she switched between news channels. Nearly immediately it had been reported that a man had been picked up and put into custody, but it wasn’t for several days that he had been sent to trial. Even after that, it wasn’t until most of the money had been laundered and put into her bank accounts and she got the assault rifle out of her apartment that she could finally relax.

Now, she looked back on the event with a certain pride. An obstacle no one could have fathomed, and she had overcome it with mild confrontation (as mild as you can consider shooting a person in the shoulder) and double her originally projected profit. Her hopes were high on this next job, especially with Nino in her pocket.

 

~~~

 

_ “You sure we can’t have a soundtrack this time?” _ Nino inquired yet again, his voice sounding close, despite him being all the way on the other side of the Seine back in the warehouse.

Marinette adjusted the earpiece and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Yes. I told you, it distracts my counting.”

_ “And the screams of the innocent don’t?” _

“I don’t hear anything once I’m inside.” Marinette quipped, eyes focused on the bank in front of her, feeling the cool metal of her moped key snug in the wristband of her leather glove.

This time, Marinette had parked her moped in the back of the bank. A tiny alley separated the bank from the sports store next to it. Cameras were in place there, but Nino had conveniently keyed them to run footage from the day before for the next half-hour. The Bank Audi France was four stories high, with big glass windows. There were two vaults in the bank, but she was only hitting the smaller one on the second floor. Instead of her usual navy winter coat, she was dressed in a long red peacoat, with a silk black blouse underneath to match the workers. Marinette glanced at her watch. It was time.

_ One-hundred and thirty seconds. _

“Go,” Marinette whispered. “Tell me when I’m in sight.” As was her routine, she joined a group of people at the crosswalk and made her way towards the front of the bank. Her heart began to beat faster, and the sounds of Paris traffic began to dull.

_ “Almost… there. Now.” _ Nino said into her ear, not nearly as loud now that Marinette’s senses were honing in. She gripped the handle and pulled, warm air rushing from the bank with a whoosh.

_ Ninety-eight seconds. _

Instead of drawing her gun on sight of the tellers lined on the bottom floor, Marinette breezed past them. The teller on the end closest to the door that lead to the back opened her mouth to say something, but Marinette silenced her by reaching into her coat pocket and pulling out her fake employee ID. As she slipped through the door, she gave Nino his signal. “First floor.”

_ Thirty-two seconds. _

Marinette confidently strode towards the stairs at the end of the hall, knowing Nino was switching off each camera as she entered it’s view and turning them back on once she passed. The stairwell was camera clean, and she took the steps two at a time to make up for a second lost with her employee encounter.

_ “I’m looking right now, and there’s only two guards, as planned.” _ Nino said, his voice coming through crackly in the stairwell. “ _ Make sure you take the second left, someone is walking though the main hall. _ ”

“Got it.” Marinette exited the stairs and drew her first gun from her coat. It was fitted with a silencer just for this occasion. She followed the path she’d memorized to the vault, counting the seconds all the way. 

_ Nine seconds. _

The heels of her boots clicked on the floor as she rounded the corner, her gun momentarily behind her back. Her sunglasses shielded her from the glare of the fluorescent lights in the stark white hall as she took in her two targets on either side of the vault’s door.

_ Three seconds. _

The one on the right looked to her first. He’d barely turned his head for more than a second when Marinette drew her gun from behind her.

_ One second. _

_ Fwoop _ . As the first guard crumpled to the floor, limp, Marinette’s sights were already on the second. The other guard looked at his partner in shock, turning to look at Marinette with wide eyes as she put a matching bullet through his skull.  _ Fwoop. _

She casually reached down and pulled the guard’s real keycard from his belt to unlock the first mechanism of the vault. Then, she jammed her code-breaker into the slot on the top of the key pad. Within seconds, it automatically entered the six-digit code, and the light next to it turned green with a cheery beep.

“ _ Okay, you’ve got your ten minutes counting down.” _ Nino said, breaking the spell of silence in the cool vault.

“Perfect.” Marinette’s internal clock was already up and ticking again. She smoothly whipped out her cloth bags with practiced grace and began her meticulous stacking.

_ Seven minutes and nineteen seconds. _

Marinette reveled in her success thus far, stuffing a few stacks of euros in the pocket of her coat as a little extra. As she started on her second bag, Nino’s voice crackled to life in her ear.  _ “Uh, Mari? I think you need to get out of there.” _

“What?”  She pressed her hand to her earpiece.

_ “There’s some guy. He’s coming down the hall, he’ll be on you in about thirty seconds.”  _ Even with the weak connection from being inside the dense metal walls of the vault, she could hear his frantic typing in the background.

“Is it the police?” Marinette asked, stacking the bills more quickly now.

_ “No, I can’t see his face. But he’s alone.” _

“I’ll take care of it. Make sure the cameras are still clear.” Marinette said through gritted teeth, leaving her bag and reaching into her coat for her gun.

_ Five minutes.   
_

She still had time.  _ “I don’t know Marinette, I think you need to get the fuck-” _

Nino’s voice stopped suddenly, the metal walls of the vault fully cutting off the signal. Marinette could hear the sound of footsteps in the hall now. She pushed herself against the wall of the vault, hiding in the corner closest to the sound. She heard the footsteps slow, and assumed the person had seen the bodies of the two guards in the hall. Marinette steadied her breathing, then spun around the doorway to aim. She nearly fell over from shock.

Right in front of her was a vaguely familiar coat and black ski mask framing green eyes. She couldn’t help the drop of her jaw, too stunned to shoot.

The man standing across from her also had a gun drawn, and had a substantially stuffed black bag slung over his shoulder. “What the fuck?” His voice was muffled by the cloth covering his mouth, but Marinette could hear the rage clearly.

“You…? But… that can’t be.” Marinette stuttered weakly. It was not. It could not be.

For a moment they both lowered their guns, too stunned to react. He recovered first, swinging the bag off his shoulder with such force it slid across the smooth white floor and stopped against the body of the guard at Marinette’s feet.

“What the fuck? It’s you! You… YOU FUCKING BITCH!” He screamed, raising his gun with a hand that was shaking with rage, and pulled the trigger.

Time seemed to slow for Marinette. She flung herself to the side, diving into the vault to dodge the bullet. She heard it ping off the marble floor outside, his angry footsteps running toward the door. From the floor, Marinette grabbed her full bag of euros. Nino’s frantic voice screeched back to life in her ear as the radio regained connection for just a moment.

_ “MARINETTE?! MARI, WHAT’S GOING ON? JESUS CHRIST PLEA-” _

As the man in the black coat stormed through the entrance to the vault, Marinette heaved the heavy bag of money at him. It knocked him off balance, and his gun fell from his hand and slid across the smooth floor of the vault.

He grunted as he hit the floor in front of her. Marinette scrambled backwards, not daring to look away as she felt around blindly for her own gun that she dropped in her dive. The man looked up at her and she could’ve sworn his eyes glowed with rage.

“You think I can’t kill you with my bare hands?” He growled, pushing himself up on an elbow.

All of Marinette’s fear washed away, replaced by her own anger. “Try me.” She shoved the heel of her boot right into his face.

He fell back again, clutching his nose though his mask. Marinette jumped up to her knees and went to grab his head to slam it into the floor, but his arm darted out and grabbed the front of her blouse. She slammed into the ground, but held fast to his hair through the ski mask. 

Marinette pushed up with all her might, but he was simply too strong. Even with her slipping grip on his head, he rolled over onto her and blindly punched her in the stomach. Marinette choked, curling in on herself. The pain coursing through her abdomen was enough to subdue her momentarily, and when she finally managed to reach out to try for his head again, he ripped free from her hands and put his full body weight on her. As she gasped for air, he hit her broadly across the face so hard she saw stars. Her earpiece flew off, and her sunglasses flew too, cracking against the wall of the vault.

In the back of her mind, Marinette was aware she was now exposed. With all the strength she could muster, she pulled in her legs and kicked straight up at his groin. He collapsed to the side in a wail of pain, and despite her still spinning vision, she rolled so now she was on top of him. To return the favor, Marinette grabbed the top of the ski mask and pulled it off, grabbing a hank of his blonde hair to force his head down.

Marinette raised her fist to punch him in the nose again -- he was already bleeding from where she had kicked him with her foot-but stopped short. Despite the blood flowing from his nose and the tears leaking from his eyes, he was probably the most attractive person Marinette had ever laid eyes on. 

It was a good thing she’d kicked him as hard as she did, because if he still wasn’t in so much pain he surely would’ve taken advantage of her hesitation. He opened his eyes and looked at her, involuntary tears spilling over his long lashes as he glared at her, his breath ragged. But he was staring at her, too. In a way that made her forget only a moment ago he’d said he’d kill her with his bare hands. And also realize that she was very much straddling his upper body.

Somehow this moment let her forget all that, and the words spilled out of her lips before she could stop them. “You’re supposed to be in jail.”

“I escaped,” he grunted.

“Escaped… jail,” she clarified, almost not believing him.

“Yes.” 

“Okay, let’s say...” Marinette began, lowering her raised hand and reaching down near her knee. “...That I know you can escape jail.” Her fingers gently reached around, finding what she was feeling for just to her right. “And let’s also say…” Marinette wrapped her hand around the handle of the gun and brought it up to point at his chest. “...That you know I can dodge a bullet and best you in a fight. And also, that we now know what the other looks like and could therefore identify each other to the police.”

The man looked at the gun with a fresh fear. He involuntarily twitched, probably remember very clearly again that time she’d shot him. “I’m listening.”

“Would you be willing to maybe work together,  _ this one time _ , where I don’t shoot you and you don’t strangle me?”

He gulped. Overhead, red lights started flashing, and a siren began to wail.

“How much time do we have?” He asked in response.

Marinette almost smiled. “Two minutes and forty-three seconds.” She released his hair and rolled off of him, reaching for her earpiece across the floor of the vault. “Nino? Nino!”

She was met with silence but jammed the earpiece back in anyway. She grabbed her full bag and her half-empty one in one hand, sliding her gun back into the pocket of her coat. The blonde man had pulled himself off the floor and was retrieving his own bag from the hall. “We’re going out the back.” Marinette said plainly. “Did you have an escape plan?”

“It’s probably ruined now.” He admitted as they dashed through the halls, the white now painted a eerie red from the lights.

“Okay, good. You’re going to cover for me then. Move faster!” She said, pulling the door open to the stairwell.

_ One minute and eight seconds. _

“It’s hard to sprint after you’ve just been kicked in the balls,” he grunted. Marinette grabbed his coat and yanked him into the stairwell. They sprinted down the levels, and on the bottom floor Marinette’s earpiece roared to life once again. 

_ “MARINETTE?” _

“Yes, I’m here,” she said, wincing a little at Nino’s loud voice.

_ “Oh thank god, I thought it had all gone to shit for a second-” _

“Has it ever?” She cut him off. “We’re fine, but I’m in a tight spot. Any cops outside?” 

_ “Not that I can see,” _ Nino started, just as Marinette and the blonde guy burst out of the rear door of the bank. 

_ Twenty-two seconds. _

“Who are you talking to?” The blonde guy asked.

Marinette internally groaned.  _ Still as talkative as the last time, I see.  _ She ignored his question for the moment. “Nino, we’re going to rendezvous at a different place-” 

“Stop right there! Hands where I can see them!”

Marinette’s blood ran cold. They still had fifteen more seconds left! Where could she have gone wrong? Possibilities filled her mind, and she could almost feel the weak bond she’d formed with her… partner (?) start to dissolve. She turned, horrified, expecting to see a squad of police cars crowding the exit to the ally. 

Instead, there was one lone policeman, who looked barely twenty years old, pointing his taser. She almost laughed. The blonde man did. 

“You’re kidding me.” Looking not the least bit threatened, he laughed in the police man’s face.

“Stand down!” The policeman yelled again. “I won’t hesitate!”

Marinette could’ve rolled her eyes if she wasn’t so relieved. She went to reach with her free hand for her gun, when suddenly the wind was knocked from her lungs. She fell hard on her face in on the dirty Paris concrete, groaning. Next to her, her “partner” slammed down, too.

She yelped as she felt her empty hand jerked back at a painful angle, then froze as she felt the cold bite of metal around her wrist and the zip of a cuff being closed. She flipped her head to the other side to look back over her shoulder.

Three police stood over them, all looking giddy as could be. And right in front of her face on the ground was her once-free hand, now handcuffed to her new friend’s wrist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stay tuned buddies :D


	3. Rouge Hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more guns, another moped chase. will our criminals escape their handcuffs? will they decide not to kill each other? and does adrien have a flair for the dramatic? find out in our thrilling conclusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey buddies! here's this.... uh last bit. i won't say anything but yes. this chapter is like 6 thousand words dfdkiferbfh this got so out of hand lmao. 11k words for a small project?? lord help me. anyway, to make the first part of the chapter better you should put on the playlist from the last chapter, or at least put on boogie by brockhampton, or bubblin by anderson paak. similar vibes for different tastes. mwah.

Inside her leather gloves, Marinette’s hands were sweating. One of the police had his boot pressing into her back between her shoulder blades, and it was getting increasingly harder to breathe. An arm’s length in front of her, her new partner was in a similar position getting patted down, spitting curses as the third officer pulled his gun from his waistband.

Marinette jerked her hand that was cuffed, getting his attention. He turned his head to look at her, annoyed. She gave him a meaningful look that said  _ ‘would you shut up?’. _

His brow furrowed. “You got any bright ideas?” He hissed.

“Yes, but if you keep this up we’ll be in the back of that cop car before-”

“Quiet!” The cop standing over her pressed his foot harder. Marinette felt her spine pop and glared at the man across from her. _ See? _ She thought.

Her initial fear from being caught still lingered, but she was already beginning to see obvious holes in the officers’ control. The three of them all looked young, and it was becoming increasingly clear they had no idea what to do. Not only had they cuffed Marinette and her accomplice to one another, they left them each with a free hand. They each still gripped their money bags, and Marinette still had her gun. In her earpiece, Nino was silent, helpless as he listened to the scene unfold over the radio.The smartest move they’d done in the past 2 minutes was to pat down her partner.

The first policeman clasped the blonde man’s gun with a satisfied look on his face, and Marinette strained her neck to look up at him. “Alright, let’s get their bags and put ‘em in the back,” he said.

The pressure disappeared from Marinette’s back, and she felt a hand at her coat collar, pulling her up onto her knees. The officer on her right did the same to her partner. Marinette shook her cuffed hand again, and looked pointedly at the officer in front of them, the one holding the gun. The blonde man followed her eyes and gave a small nod. 

In one swift movement, Marinette lifted her free arm up and hit the officer holding her as hard as she could in the groin with her elbow. He yelled, crumpling forward. On her right, the blonde man let go of his black duffel to grab to officer behind him and flipped him over his shoulder. Awkwardly, Marinette got to her feet and swung at the officer in front of them with her cloth bags, hitting his face broadly. 

Her partner lunged forward and grabbed his gun from the concrete in front of him, while Marinette turned back around to hit the officer she’d just elbowed in his face with her knee. 

With all of them on the ground clutching various body parts, Marinette pulled the blonde man with her as she ran for her moped. As quick as she could with one hand, she put her cloth bags into the leather side satchels, but it was proving difficult.

“We’re going to escape on… this?” The blonde man questioned.

“Yes,” Marinette grunted, giving up on the buckle that secured the top flap. “Get on behind me, have your gun ready!”

Using her teeth, she retrieved her key from inside her glove and awkwardly reached across her body to put it in and turn the ignition over. Her partner settled in behind her, and she felt him swing his duffel over one shoulder.

“Wait! Keep them occupied.” In response, the man turned and fired two shots at the ground near the officers, and they covered their heads. Marinette took a few precious seconds to reach into the small compartment between her legs and pulled out a fresh pair of sunglasses, tortoiseshell this time.

“Any chance you have another?” He grumbled.

“Actually, here.” She handed a her second spare pair over her shoulder.

“...These have rhinestones on them.”

“They’re black so now they match the rest of your outfit, and also your sparkling personality.” She felt his body lurch to the side as Marinette grabbed the handlebars.

“You’re gonna rip my arm out of its socket,” he complained, as Marinette turned sharply, hitting the gas to turn the moped around.

“You want to get out of here or not?” The moped’s electric motor whirred as they zipped around the police car, the shouts of the officers fading as they entered traffic. “Nino, you still there?” Marinette asked, narrowly missing a parked car as they jumped the curb onto the sidewalk. Pedestrians scattered, screaming as the odd pair barreled down the side of the road.

_ “Yeah, I’m here. What the hell is going on?” _

“I can’t explain right now, but we’re on our way out,” Marinette drove straight into the intersection, causing cars to screech to a halt to avoid hitting them. The blonde man whipped his head around just in time to watch two cars collide in their wake. “Listen to me. We can’t go back to the warehouse, it’s too far. Go to Rouge Hall, be ready for us when we get there.”

Police sirens were now wailing in the distance. Marinette turned the next corner with alarming speed, and unbalanced weight from the money and her blonde friend, sitting at an awkward angle because of their cuffed hands, caused them to nearly tip. Marinette quickly righted them, weaving through traffic. “Next turn is a left, be ready to put your foot down for balance!” She yelled over the wind.

“Um, I think not,” the blonde man scoffed in her ear. “These boots are Saint Laurent.”

_ “Who the fuck is that?” _ Nino asked.

Marinette thought her head was going to explode between these two boys and trying to navigate the city by memory. “I… I have a plus one now! Don’t worry about it, just get to the Hall! Should be twenty-five minutes by my count.” Marinette took the next turn at full speed again, digging her heel into the pavement to help them turn. “Got it?”

_ “Yes, yes okay. I’ll get there as fast as I can.” _

“I better start smelling singed designer this next intersection!” Marinette yelled. “Mine are Moncler, and I don’t hear me complaining.”

“Mmm, a woman with taste,” he hummed in her ear. This time Marinette felt him step down with her, and they turned much sharper. She grinned.

The sirens were closer now, and about a block behind them she could see flashing blue lights in her mirrors. She felt the blonde man press against her as he turned to look back. “Looks like we have some company,” he said.

Marinette grit her teeth. “I’ll try to lose them. Take them out if they get too close.”

“With pleasure.” Even as Marinette took another steep turn, she felt the man’s weight shift as he turned sideways so he could aim behind them. His arm was making the handcuff at her wrist bite into her skin, but she tried to ignore the pain as she swerved into a tight alleyway between two buildings.

As they burst out onto the street on the other side, Marinette took a hard left. She gasped, seeing two police cars headed straight towards them. She pulled hard on the handlebars and jumped back onto the sidewalk, neatly zipping past the police cars as they slid to a stop in the road. She zig-zagged through the streets as much as she could, but the police were gaining on them. Her partner fired shots one-handed at the police cars, but was only successful in making one gain a flat tire. She heard the unsatisfying click of an empty gun followed by a curse.

“I’m out of bullets!” He called, staying turned to keep an eye on the police. “Oh, shit.” She felt him lean against her even more. Before Marinette could even ask what was wrong, she got her answer as a bullet pinged off her right side mirror. The police were firing back. 

Her mind went into overdrive, trying to think for an out. In her attempt to lose the police, they hadn’t made as much progress towards Rogue Hall as she’d needed to, but she couldn’t just lead them there. And with the two of them, the moped it was slower than usual. 

“I’ve got an idea! Turn around, and hold on,” She called over her shoulder. “Nino? ETA?”

_ “I’m five minutes away, are you dudes okay?” _

“Yes, but we’re about to lose signal. We’ll see you there.”

_ “Why, what are you doing?” _

“I’m getting in the metro.”

“You’re  _ WHAT _ ?” Nino and the blonde man cried at once.

“You heard me!” She cried. “I have a metro ticket in my breast pocket, and you’ve got twenty seconds before we hit the stairs!”

The two thieves and their moped sped across one final intersection, and Marinette aimed at the entrance to the metro station on the sidewalk ahead. The blonde man managed to get the ticket out of her pocket just as they reached the stairs. For a few precious seconds, they were airborne. People exiting the metro on the stairs below screamed, moving out of the way. The moped hit the stairs hard, halfway down, sending sparks. Marinette’s brain rattled in her skull as they bounced down the last flight, and she felt a hand gripping her wrist just below her cuff. The stairs leveled off and the turnstiles came into sight, and Marinette aimed for the handicap lane where the opening would be wide enough to fit through. They screeched to a halt in front of the turnstile and the man put the ticket into the slot, the machine spitting it out on the other side. The two small doors opened inwards, and Marinette squeezed the gas handle. As they shot down more stairs, they heard the whoosh of the train exiting the station. 

“Perfect,” Marinette said under her breath. They sped across the now empty platform and drove right onto the tiny ledge that lined the tunnels on either side for workers. The ledge was precariously narrow, and Marinette strained to keep them from going off the side. 

“While this is terrifying, I’m partially glad we’re not actually on the train, because that would have been extremely weird.” 

“Hey, I know what I’m doing.” Marinette quipped. Ahead of them in the tunnel, she could see the light of the next station.

They made it past 3 stations staying behind the train. As they approached the next station, Marinette gritted her teeth in anticipation of going up the stairs onto the platform. They bounced up the small flight roughly, and sped across the platform. Civilians not yet on the train jumping back in fear as they barreled across the tile. Marinette looked to the stairs, but there were at least three flights of steep stairs at this station. They wouldn’t be able to make it up them without getting stuck. 

She came to a stop in the middle of the platform, looking wildly for another option. Ahead of her on the other side of the platform, she spotted a worker with a trolly full of boxes getting onto the maintenance elevator.  _ Of course. _

She pulled the gas level and sped towards the now-closing doors. “Keep it open!” She yelled.

The worker looked shocked but stuck his hand out anyway to stop the doors from closing. Marinette turned the moped to the side and they slid across the threshold of the elevator, barely stopping before hitting the back wall. The doors closed with a metallic click. 

The poor worker looked terrified at the sight of them. Marinette’s cheeks burned at the pure discomfort of the situation as the elevator slowly ascended to the turnstile level. Her partner seemed completely at ease.

“Thanks for holding the door,” he said casually, swinging his coat to the side, still holding his empty gun in his hand. The worker just stared blankly. “What, never seen two people on their way home from work?”

Mercifully, the elevator stopped and opened its doors. “Have a good day!” He called over his shoulder as they shot out of the elevator and towards the turnstiles again. They pushed through the handicap exit, and luckily the steps on the upper level were not as steep. They exploded onto the sidewalk a block away from Rogue Hall, and Marinette wasted no time zipping through the intersections at top speed. 

As soon as the old brick building came into view, Marinette let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. The red neon sign that announced the name of the gambling hall glowed in the afternoon light. They zipped around to the backside of the building, and Marinette put up the kickstand and cut the engine. 

“Marinette!” Nino threw open the backdoor of Rogue Hall, looking incredibly relieved. 

“Nino!” Marinette opened her arm, catching Nino’s embrace. He squeezed her hard, lifting her up onto her toes. “Quick, help us get this inside.”

Nino gave the blonde man a wary glance, and then noticed the handcuffs. He knew they needed to get inside as soon as possible though, and he thankfully held his questions. The two took their sunglasses off and Nino led the way inside, carrying Marinette’s two cloth bags. One of the Hall’s security guards leading them through the main floor to the stairs. 

Inside, the Hall boasted glittering chandeliers and red velvet accents. The employees milled around, dealers who had first shift in their sharp uniform suits chatting with the bartenders getting the Hall ready for opening. The blonde man took in the activity with interest. Marinette wondered if he’d ever been here. Maybe one night he’d been right under her nose, playing a hand at the poker table and she hadn’t even known it.

Marinette flexed her fingers. In the chase, the constant pressure on the cuff had cut off her circulation and her hand had gone numb. Her wrist was rubbed raw, and she was glad she couldn’t feel the torn skin she could see.

The security guard took them to the upper level of the Hall, and led them to the two large double doors that were always under constant watch. He took his place beside the door and gestured. “Ms. Césaire is waiting for you all.”

“Thanks,” Nino nodded. He pulled one of the doors open, and Marinette and her partner followed. 

Inside the doors was an office. It had no windows, and was lit by a chandelier similar to the ones that illuminated the main floor. Behind a mahogany desk in the middle of the room was a woman with wild hair and a red blazer, grinning at them with a wild gleam in her eye. 

Alya Césaire was one of Marinette’s closest friends, and the owner of Rouge Hall. Long ago, Alya had been her bank robbing partner, introduced to each other by Nino. They got along well, and Marinette was impressed by her successful heists of some of Paris’ most prestigious museums. Most of the Quing-dynasty era art that decorated the office was stolen, and the ruby pin Alya wore on her blazer was from 15th century France. Now a days, Alya ran the Hall as a legitimate business to cover her drug delivering that occured in the depths of the basement. She welcomed Marinette, Nino, and a few other of her trusted friends to work out of the Hall, and use the building’s impeccable security as a safe house for moments just like this

Alya caught sight of the handcuffs and let out a low whistle.“Mari- _ nette _ ! Nino called me and told me something had happened with you job, but this was not what I was expecting.”

“Hey Alya.” Marinette sighed. 

Alya got up from behind the desk and kissed her cheeks. She pulled away and looked once over the blonde man. “Who’s your friend here?”

“Um, I’m Adrien.” He set his bag down and offered his hand for a shake, lucky his right hand was the uncuffed one. “Thank you for letting us come here.”

Alya leaned back on her desk, crossing her arms. Nino joined her. “Of course, I have one of the most secure buildings for people like ourselves in Paris. So, what’s the story? How do you guys… know each other?”

Marinette cringed, rubbing her hand across her face. “Um… remember the Blybos job I did earlier this year?”

“No. Fucking. Way.” Alya breathed.  “You’re kidding me!”

“What?” Nino cried, dropping Marinette’s bags in shock. “This is the guy you shot?”

Marinette groaned. “Yeah.”

“Oh yeah,” Adrien said, turning to point at her like he’d just remembered this happened as well. “I’m still fucking pissed about that, by the way.”

Alya roared in laughter. “So what? You got his number the last time and called him up for help on your job? Or maybe you dragged him against his will.”

“Okay!” Marinette yelled, suddenly defensive. “I was only looting the safe on the second floor of the Audi-”

“-And  _ I _ was planning to hit both.” Adrien jumped in. “But when I get down to the second floor, who do I see hijacking  _ my _ job?”

“ _ Your  _ job?”

“I was in the bank first!”

“How would you know that?”

“LADIES!” Alya clapped her hands, silencing the bickering. “I know Marinette got what she wanted, and that bag of yours looks pretty hefty. I’ll say it was still successful by that combined with you being here and not at a police station.”

“Speaking of police,” Marinette said. She lifted her and Adrien’s hands, wincing a little as the cuff bit into her sensitive skin. “We had a run-in in the ally way behind the bank. That’s how this happened.”

“Impressive. And you made it all the way here without bringing them with you, I hope.”

“The usual way.” Marinette said, unwilling to go into any more details about their harried escape right then. “Alya, you have to know someway to get them off.”

Alya hummed. “I mean, I don’t think a hairpin will cut it with government-issue cuffs, but I think maybe we have a saw somewhere.”

Adrien and Marinette shared a glance. “Let’s give it a try,” Adrien said.

A few minutes later, Marinette and Adrien stood on either side of Nino as he lined a hacksaw from Alya’s basement up with one of the links on the handcuffs. They braced their arms against Alya’s desk.

“Ready?” Nino asked.

Adrien and Marinette nodded.

Nino started sawing, and Marinette grit her teeth against the pain. After only a few seconds of Nino sawing she called him to stop. “It’s digging into my wrist, it hurts too much,” she said apologetically.

Adrien had sweat on his brow. “Me, too,” he confessed. He pulled back the cuff of his coat and revealed a deep wound on the outside bone of his wrist. His white shirt underneath was covered in dried blood.

Alya tapped her chin. “I know a good lock pick. I’ll see if she’s available to come over.”

“As long as it’s not  _ her, _ ” Marinette said darkly. Alya just gave her the eye and picked up the secure phone line on her desk and took the phone to the other room. She came back only a minute later.

“She’ll be here at eleven,” Alya said.

“Eleven!” Marinette and Adrien cried at the same time. “That’s hours from now!”

“It’s the best I could do,” Alya shrugged. “And now it’s opening time, I have a house to run, so I’ll be downstairs. If you want you can make yourselves comfortable in the apartment. You need anything before I go?”

Marinette rubbed her temple. “Please  _ God _ , get me a whiskey.”

Alya’s apartment was through two sets of doors behind her desk, with a kitchen/sitting room in between. Her bedroom housed a luscious canopy bed and an attached bathroom. It also had the luxury of a window, while the other two rooms did not. With some difficulty, Adrien and Marinette brought two overstuffed chairs next to each other in front of the window. Nino brought Marinette her whiskey (only one ice) and scurried off, leaving the two of them alone to watch the sun set over the Seine, and wait. Their cuffed hands rested on the two chair arms pressed together.

“Could you stop clinking the ice against the glass? I have to pee so bad.”

“Piss yourself for all I care,” Marinette grumbled, making sure to clink the ice extra the next time she took a sip.

“Why are you so mad? If this is about who was in the bank first, I honestly don’t give a shit. But might I remind you, it’s  _ you _ who shot-”

“That’s not what I’m mad about!” Marinette cried, slamming her glass onto the arm of the chair. Adrien got quiet. “When we left the bank today, we had fifteen whole seconds to get on the moped and leave before the police arrived.  _ Should  _ have had fifteen seconds. But we didn’t, and I still can’t figure out why.”

“And your counting is never wrong?”

“Never.”

The room was quiet again. Cars passed on the street silently. Marinette leaned her head back on the chair and closed her eyes.

“I set off the alarm early,” Adrien said.

Marinette opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him. “But… the alarm didn’t sound until many minutes after you got to the second vault.”

“I know. But the alarm system for each vault is separate. They’re both wired into the main, but if one is triggered before the other, the countdown will start only for the one. I got in the bank first, so I triggered the countdown for the upper vault only. You must’ve come in right after me for them to only be fifteen seconds off.”

Marinette stared at him for a moment, then turned her head back to the window. “Nino didn’t tell me that.” 

“It probably wasn’t important, since you were only going for the one.”

“Maybe.” Marinette took another sip of her drink. This time the ice didn’t clink. “How did you escape jail?”

“I didn’t.”

“What?” Marinette gasped. “Then how did you escape Blybos?”

“I didn’t do that either.” He stared out the window into the middle distance. “Before you shot that last security camera, it still captured the footage of me stopping you. It was enough evidence, combined with them finding me shot and unarmed, for the police to let me go without trial.”

Marinette looked at him with a look of shock, her jaw slack.

Adrien caught her staring and quickly averted his eyes, giving a small cough.“I uh, also have a friend in the system. That helped too.” 

“Unbelievable,” Marinette breathed. “And you went out and did another job eight months after?”

“Well, I didn’t make any money that time, so yeah. I had to go again and make it double.”

“Damn.”

“My turn,” Adrien said. “How come you don’t take a lot of money? You never fooled me with those tiny bags. And you work alone. What’s the point.”

Marinette took another sip of her whiskey before answering. “It’s just the excitement. Nothing has the same satisfaction as planning a job for three months and pulling it off. It’s not really about the money, it’s the process.”

“Same.” Adrien agreed.

“Says the man in the Saint Laurent. Don’t think I didn’t notice the rest of you is dripping, too. I’d know an Armai coat anywhere.”

Adrien let out a laugh. “You got me. I don’t have much else to spend it on, might as well be something semi-useful.”

“Mmm, but I also have student loans.”

“Really? What did you study?”

“Fashion, but in New York. Thus the loans.”

“Ah. And that’s how you can spot designer on sight.”

Marinette nodded. “I like my clothes, too though. An expensive habit. You said so yourself, Moncler is some of the best.”

“I still stand by your taste.”

They settled into quiet again. Marinette drained the last drop of whiskey from her glass, and Adrien shifted in his chair. “Do you still have to pee?” She looked over at him.

“Terribly.”

In the bathroom, Marinette put her head down on the counter and buried it in her elbow. She couldn’t decide if talking while he relieved himself was better or worse than silence, but she kept her mouth shut anyway. She stood there awkwardly while he washed his one hand, looking down at his other. Without thinking, she lifted up the edge of his long sleeve to look at his wrist wound. He flinched away as her fingers brushed his skin.

“Sorry,” she said, heat crawling up her neck.

“It’s fine,” he replied, washing the remaining dried blood off his face from his nosebleed before rubbing his hand dry on the towel. “It just really hurts.”

“Sorry. My driving gets very aggressive.”

“I don’t blame you. You did what you had to do.” He turned back towards her, and suddenly she found herself looking up at him. Despite being connected, they had yet to stand this close, and he was much taller than she realized. “I think you’re the only person who can make a moped a successful getaway car.”

“Thanks.” Marinette said, her voice catching a little as she looked back into his green eyes. “Um, is it okay if we lie down?” She said. She broke eye contact, but her gaze still caught on his jaw. “I’m really exhausted, and we still have four hours until she gets here.”

“Sure.” He clicked off the light as they left the bathroom.

They sat together on the edge of the bed as they removed their shoes. Marinette slid her coat off her free arm and pushed it down on the other side, so it hung between them on the cuffs. She reached up and pulled out the pins holding up her bun and shook her hair out, the headache she’d been on the verge of getting disappearing as she shook her hair with one hand. She didn’t noticed Adrien watching her.

Carefully, so as not to aggravate their injured wrists, Adrien scooted back on the bed while Marinette turned. She moved her loose coat so it lay between them on the bed, and Adrien let out a sigh. 

“Those sunglasses of mine you broke today were Chanel. I expect a hundred and fifty euros before you leave so I can replace them.”

Adrien laughed, and propped himself up on his elbow to look at her. “Fine. But you owe me five hundred euros for shooting me that time.” 

“Deal.”

The bed shook as he took his coat off in a similar way that Marinette had so now both their coats were between them.

Marinette closed her eyes. After a few minutes past, Adrien’s breathing leveled out next to her. “I’m sorry I did that.” She whispered into the quiet.

 

~~~

 

“Wakey wakey!” Alya called, throwing the doors open to the bedroom. 

Marinette and Adrien jerked awake, Adrien’s hand instinctively going to the holster at his side. Marinette’s expression darkened at the sight  of the girl standing beside Alya.

“Chloé.” She said, voice dripping contempt.

“Dupain-Cheng,” Chloé stood next to Alya in the doorway, staring daggers at her. In one hand she clutched her lockpicking kit, the other was curled up near her face. She was probably fighting off the urge to wrap it around Marinette’s throat. Her eyes landed on Adrien beside her, and they opened a little in surprise “My God, how on earth did someone like  _ you _ get caught up with Marinette here?”

“Uh, it’s kind of a long story,” he said.

“Yes, very long.” Marinette cut in. She moved their coats to the side so that the handcuff was exposed. 

Chloé raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. Well, I’m on a tight schedule tonight so let’s get this over with.” She opened her leather bag and removed two metal pins that had different shapes at the ends, similar to dentist tools. “Get the lamp, Alya.”

Alya turned on the light that was on the bedside table, and Chloé perched on the edge of the bed near the lamp. She lifted up their cuffed hands to the light before digging in with her picks.

Everyone was silent while Chloé moved the picks back and forth with a look of concentration on her face. Once they were in the right place, she grabbed a third and pushed straight down on the lock, and the cuff on Adrien’s wrist sprang open. He cradled his free wrist like it was a treasure, then went to the bathroom to wash his cuts.

Chloé made quick of the second lock on Marinette’s wrist, and tossed the now opened handcuffs on the bed unceremoniously. Marinette held her newly freed hand up and smiled.

“Don’t thank me, pay me,” Chloé said, putting her picks back into their designated spots in her kit.

Marinette rolled her eyes, but reached into the pocket of her coat where she’d stashed the extra stack of euros earlier during the robbery. She roughly counted out half the stack and placed it into Chloé’s waiting palm. “If you’re going to make this a habit Dupain-Cheng, you’d better get good with your own picks. Alya was smart to not tell me you were here.”

“Oh believe me, I won’t,” Marinette called as Chloé strode from the room, slamming the door behind her. As soon as the door closed, she turned at Alya. “I said anyone  _ but _ her!”

“Why, you worried she’ll talk?” Alya asked. “You have bigger things to worry about. Besides, I don’t have droves of lockpicks to choose from. How about you give me that thank you, hm?”

Marinette put her arms out. “Thank you, Alya.” 

Alya embraced her on the bed, then pulled away. “Okay, I’ve got to get back downstairs. You staying or going?”

“I’ll stay.” Marinette said. “See you downstairs. Where is everything? Also, I need to get something from the vault.”

“In the kitchen. Ivan is down there, so you can take your time.” Alya replied. She looked over Marinette’s shoulder pointedly at Adrien.

“I don’t know,” Marinette whispered. “I guess he’s leaving.” Alya gave her another look, and Marinette slapped her arm. “Stop! You have no idea how goddamn annoying he is.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

“I’m being serious! I’ll tell you everything that happened when I come down.” Marinette hissed.

“Okay, okay. See you in a few.” Alya still shot her one more look before closing the door to the bedroom.

Marinette joined Adrien at the sink in the bathroom. He was dabbing at his wrist with a wet washcloth, and Marinette could see how deep the cuff had cut into is flesh. “I’m sure there’s something in here for that.”

She rummaged around in Alya’s bathroom cabinet, pulling out a bottle of betadine, antiseptic cream and bandages. “Here, wash it with this.” She handed him the betadine.

“Thanks.”

They stood in the bathroom in silence, sharing the betadine and antiseptic cream. Once both of their wrists were wrapped in clean gauze, they retrieved their coats from the bed. Adrien picked up the handcuffs. “You want these?”

“Hell no.”

“Me either.”

Marinette opened Alya’s nightstand drawer and shoved the handcuffs inside. A surprise for later. “How are you planning to…” Marinette faded off. ‘Get home’ didn’t seem like the proper way to put it. “Where are you going to go?”

Adrien shrugged, pulling on his coat. “I can walk to wherever I need to be.”

“With your giant duffle bag?”

Adrien paused. “I didn’t think about that.”

“Well, you can stay here. You could get your money and I can take Alya’s car and drop you off somewhere. Or you can leave it here, in our vault, and come get it later.”

“I can take it now.”

“You sure?” Marinette cocked an eyebrow.

“I’m sure.”

That seemed stupid to Marinette, but she decided not to push it. “Come on. Your money is in here and then we’re going down to the vault.” Marinette tossed her coat onto the table in the kitchen while Adrien shouldered his massive bag, and they re-entered Alya’s office. Marinette felt along the left edge of the giant painting on the wall, and pressed when she found the notch. There was a small  _ click _ , and the pulled the painting away from the wall to reveal a narrow hallway. Marinette stepped over the edge of the doorway and motioned for Adrien to follow her. “You might want to leave that here for now, it can get a little tight.” 

Adrien let his fingers trail across the wall as they walked to the end. “So, I guess you and Alya know each other pretty well.”

“Yeah, long history.” Marinette began to descend the tight spiral staircase at the end of the hall, her boots thumping on the metal stairs. “We used to work together a lot, and now we just do our own thing. I’d trust her with my life.”

They descended the stairs and were let out at the bottom in almost an identical hallway. A security guard stood watch by the door covered by a grate on one side of the hall. 

“Hey, Ivan,” Marinette said as she approached. 

“Hi, Marinette. Long time no see,” Ivan answered, stepping to the side to allow Marinette to slide the grate to the side and enter the code into the keypad. 

“Yeah, been busy. But I’m here tonight. Just gotta grab something and we’ll be on our way.”

The vault door opened, the sound of the hydraulic pins moving out of the way. Marinette stepped inside, and Adrien followed her. 

The vault was filled with a lot of things. There were gold bars, the Hall’s true backing. Many stacks of money, some of it Marinette’s, some Alya’s and other people Alya trusted enough to hold their money. There were also things Alya deemed valuable enough to sit in the vault, like her excess pieces from her art theft days. Adrien stood and took it all in, while Marinette reached into the corner to grab something.

“I believe this” -she presented the large assault rifle to Adrien with both hands- “is yours.”

Adrien’s face took on a look of shock, and he took the gun from her. “You kept it?”

“Yeah,” Marinette said, watching as he checked the weapon over. “I honestly didn’t know what to do with it once I left. So we just put it down here. I guess this is to say sorry for shooting you in the shoulder.”

Adrien chuckled. “I guess I accept.”

They left the vault, and Marinette gave Ivan a nod in goodbye as she locked the door and slid the grate back into place. Adrien had slung the rifle across his back, and they ascended the stairs again and exited through the painting. Marinette clicked the frame back into place with finality. 

“I’ll take you to the back door.” They left Alya’s office, and walked a more secluded way to the opposite side of the Hall. They went down a corner staircase, and in the shadows, none of the Hall’s patrons noticed the pair slip out through the backdoor. 

The sound of conversation and music became dull when Marinette closed the door. It had rained outside, and the pavement was wet and reflected the glow from the streetlights above. Now the rain was just a light mist, catching in the beams of the lights and catching on her hair like glitter. Marinette leaned back against the door, now cold in just her silk blouse and thin pants.

“Well, thanks for the adventure today, Marinette.” 

“Likewise,” she said. “Please don’t show up to my next bank robbery.”

“You quit showing up to mine.” He gave her a sly smile, and began to walk away. His trench coat swished in the wind as he walked, his odd silhouette of the assault rifle and the duffle bag illuminated by the lights. Just as Marinette went to grip the doorknob, Adrien turned backwards and called to her. “Hey, Marinette!”

“Yeah?” She yelled back.

“I still hate your fucking guts!”

“Me too!”

He stopped walking, and Marinette turned to face him again. She squinted against the mist. He raised his hand up, and Marinette recognized the red wood on the handle of the gun. Her gun, which Adrien was now holding. “You forgot to pay me my five hundred euros!”

The silencer was still attached to her pistol, so she didn’t hear the shot. She just felt the pain explode across her right shoulder, deeper than anything she’d felt before. Her wrist seemed like a bruise in comparison. Her eyes filled with tears from the pain, and she slowly crumpled to the ground in front of the door. She touched her fingers to her shoulder, and they came back slick with blood that glinted in the streetlight. Adrien’s silhouette faded from view.

Somehow she managed to stagger back into the Hall. Alya found her, and she lost consciousness. She woke up on the hard wood surface of Alya’s desk, the concerned faces of her friends hovering over her as one of Alya’s trusted employees removed the bullet from her shoulder. Alya was speaking to Nino, her face flushed with anger, but Marinette wasn’t hearing any of it. The world was quiet. As she gazed up at the speckled ceiling of the office, she smiled through the pain. They were even now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol whoops. bug me about this on tumblr at celestialceci.tumblr.com


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